The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

I cannot remember the last time I cooked.

This is sad.

Remember, Internet, I traveled many thousand miles to attend culinary school across an ocean in the gastronomic capital of Italy. I know HOW to cook. I even enjoy it. A lot.

But, like I said, I can't remember the last time I actually did it. Unless making PB&J counts as cooking. Which I doubt.

I eat out for nearly every meal these days. It's pretty sad. For one thing, cooking your own meals is healthier than eating out. It's cheaper, it's more nutritious, and, to be frank, it usually tastes better. In my case, it's more busy-ness than laziness that dictates my eating habits.

But what about the rest of America? How many times a week do you prepare meals, Internet?

HOW DID THIS PHENOMENON COME ABOUT??

When I lived abroad, dining out was extremely rare. So rare, in fact, that when people came to visit me, I could hardly think of a restaurant to recommend that wasn't my own kitchen. Even the weekend meals were spent at home. Restaurant owners themselves spent Sundays with family, so good luck trying to track down a decent meal. Lifestyle just dictated that meals were to be prepared and enjoyed at home.

What's the reasoning behind that? Well, I can't know for sure, but I do have my theories.

1. Prevalence of take-out. Lazy people do not want to get dressed up and make a reservation. Busy people don't have the time. So when the dinner decision is between grilling chicken and leaving the house, the easier decision is to just grill the freaking bird. When the decision becomes about grilling a chicken or having a fully grilled, seasoned, and plated one delivered to your door? That certainly changes the outcome.
2. Doggie bags. For the price of an entree at CPK, I have dinner, the next day's lunch, and possibly even the next night's dinner. In Italy, it is a major faux pas (un passo falso) to request to take home leftovers. So if you're going out to eat and you don't have an appetite? Your wallet will not be pleased.
3. Atmosphere. Italians--at least the ones I spent time with--are all about famiglia. So, while Americans scuttle all over Los Angeles, trying to track down that restaurant with the perfect warm, friendly air (and just a hint of sophistication), Italians have that already waiting at home, ready to be embraced. 
4. Tradition.  And, on that note, ability. In Italy, cooking is a set of skills passed down from mother to child. Recipes outlive generations. That means that, not only do Italians know how to cook, they take pride in preparing the same dishes that have been eaten in their family for many, many years. In America, most kids these days don't even get Home Ec., let alone get the practical experience of learning to cook from the source.
5. Priorities. My second time living in Italy, I rented a room with a sweet older woman named Filomena. Filo, as I called her, led one of the busiest lives I've ever had the pleasure of interfering in. Despite her advancing years, she volunteered in the mornings, organized and led spiritual seminars in the evenings, took Salsa-dancing lessons at night, and found time in between for her family, friends, and weekly game of Divorcée Gin Rummy (and to do my laundry, which I insisted was not necessary). And yet, Filo was always home early enough to have multiple courses of dinner prepared, hot, and on the table because family dinner time was something important to her.

I'm sure more than I'm even aware of goes into this present shift away from meals at home, but I have to say, I. Do. Not. Like. It. Come May, when I go back to working 40 hours a week (instead of the close to 60 hours I put in, when school is considered), I vow to make a concerted effort to get back into the kitchen, where I belong. 

And, at that thought, I'm sure Betty Friedan is rolling over in her grave. 

Relax, Betty, it's just food for thought!